


BabyDaddy

by LizzyGal



Series: Moments of Clarity [2]
Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Car Sex, Drunk Sex, Edging, F/M, Plotting, Ransom Drysdale Being an Asshole, Ransom Drysdale's Sweater, Ransom has a plan, Restraints, Shameless Smut, Smut, Unprotected Sex, jealous ransom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24091942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzyGal/pseuds/LizzyGal
Summary: Ransom Drysdale is back with a plan to knock up his boss. Working as a butler to a young wealthy widow, who, as luck would have it, is just as horrible and conniving as him.However, when Ransom's comfortable life is threatened with responsibility, will he bail? Will Ransom step up? Will Ransom come up with a even better, far more cunning scheme to get his hands on your fortune?This could be Ransom's biggest moment of clarity yet.::Content warnings for Profanity, lots of bad language::
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale/Reader
Series: Moments of Clarity [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735510
Comments: 34
Kudos: 132





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> ::Content Warning for Part One: There is drunk sex. Ransom is drunk and willing, however, since he is in a state of intoxication, I feel like I should throw this warning out there for anyone who is bothered by that.::

Hugh Ransom Drysdale had a plan.

Ransom was going to knock-up his boss.

It was perfect.

A kid! How had he not thought of it beforehand?

Aunt Joni had managed to fleece his grandfather for a small fortune using his cousin Meg. Child support for someone like you and your fortune, your income, was what wet dreams were made of and that didn’t even count the Trust Fund he’d ask for, college tuition, private school tuition, an apartment.

Just thinking about it put Ransom in a good mood.

Getting you pregnant hadn’t been as easy as he’d expected. In high school and college, it felt like just looking at someone could get them pregnant. He knew guys who had sexual encounters lasting only a minute or two, resulting in pregnancy. One-night stands, boom, pregnant and years upon years of child support. It’d given Ransom such a scare, he’d never not worn a condom until that one night with you.

He hadn’t worn a condom since either.

He’d turned over a new leaf.

He’d never been impressed with monogamy, or thought it was anywhere near realistic. He’d been raised by Richard Drysdale for fucks sake. Not a year went by without Ransom noticing the fights, his father’s failed attempts to hide affairs. He’d never be that unhappy. He’d never get married, or roped in with a pre-nup, confined by the hypocrisy of a relationship.

Once he knocked you up, he intended to celebrate with the first young nubile college student he found at one of Boston’s bars. That would fix everything.

Ever since that night you’d tied him to your bed, Ransom had been unable to fuck anyone else. He’d tried too. He’d gone to a few bars, hung out with buddies, cruised around Boston looking for a piece of ass only to not. None of the twenty-somethings from surrounding universities interested him. None of them looked like you or yelled at him like you, challenged him like you, or hit him like you. Cougars weren’t any different. In the past, he hadn’t discriminated. Pussy was pussy. In the past, he usually had several girlfriends, some action on the side, plus his always reliable on-call hookups. Older women needed dick too, and he had been more than a willing champion.

Not in the past few months though, or the few months before actually, when he thought about it. He couldn’t pick up another woman without comparing her to you.

The last time he’d had sex with a woman that wasn’t you, he’d only been able to finish the job because it was dark and he pretended that they were you. He’d closed his eyes and imagined that the girl from SAKs was you.

When he started fucking you, his treacherous dick was happy. 

When he began screwing you with regularity, his dick could get hard at moment’s notice for the first time in months. He hadn’t been this hard with such frequency since he was fourteen damn years old.

It was ridiculous.

The second he put a baby in you, he was going to celebrate with half the city to prove to his seditious dick that there were other women out there. Not that he’d dare go bareback with them. Ransom wasn’t paying child support. He’d have to buy more condoms too.

In a moment of lunacy, he’d tossed all of his, swearing to never again wear them and he hadn’t.

In nearly every room of your luxury penthouse, he’d taken you unprotected and after a couple months of that, he found himself looking up ways to increase your fertility online. He was having sex with you, and only you, enough to ensure that you were the only one getting his stuff, all his stuff, and you should have been pregnant.

“I can’t believe you said that to Nadia!”

Getting you pregnant had turned into a part time job.

Ransom couldn’t believe, that you couldn’t believe, what he said to Nadia.

He glanced over at you from behind the driver’s seat of his classic BMW. He really was going to have to start getting along at least a little bit with the staff. Just that morning your driver had quit and now, on top of his butler duties and working on knocking you up, he was having to drive you all over hell and creation and the greater Boston area.

It was entirely possible that Boston had the world’s longest red lights.

Rolling his eyes, he gripped the steering wheel. “My God…still? Are you ever going to get over it?”

Your eyes bugged out.

Your mouth gaped open.

You turned in the front passenger seat to stare at your butler, and if nature would get on board with things, your future BabyDaddy. 

You had hoped that it never happening with your late husband Chip, was due to his age.

Three months of constant unprotected sex with Ransom had led to nothing, nada, no change to the occupancy in your baby-maker.

“Ransom! You literally just told Boston’s Society Matron to ‘shut her cock-holster’ not ten minutes ago!”

And he didn’t even look a little remorseful.

“Over afternoon tea,” you added, outraged still.

Ransom raised his eyebrows.

Your mouth looked just so perfect when you were outraged at him like that, so round and perfect for his own cock. God he could have gone for a blowjob right about then. Especially after the hour he spent with you and Nadia, planning a charity ball for that coming holiday season.

“So…so far today you’ve fired Julio for looking at you the wrong way. You got your Great Nana thrown out of her nursing home. You made the principle of my nephews private school quit, after forty years in education, and you broke my blender. Is there anything else you want to add to your tally? The days not over! If you try hard enough, I’m sure you could accomplish more. Maybe you could burn down my apartment? Or, oh, I know! You could call in a bomb threat to the boys school! It’s been a while since you’ve caused a scene. You’ve probably got some sort of an itch to scratch, or a bad behavior quota you need to make for the month.”

Ransom gave you a look that just totally did it for you.

If you were at home, not wearing your battle clothes for afternoon tea with the Battleax of Boston, you would have been all over Drysdale. 

Unfortunately, you had to go pick up your nephews from school as well as meet with their teacher. Since your sister had run off with her newest love, she’d dropped them off at your apartment with a note and thirty-four dollars. Apparently, the love of her life, a trainer she met at her gym, was going to make it big in Hollywood but he didn’t like kids. 

Ransom didn’t like kids either, but upon finding them outside in the hallway, after he stopped swearing like a sailor on shore-leave, he let them in the apartment and called you. 

Blessed Holy Mother, the light was green.

“Don’t try me. I’m not in the mood today.”

You made a deep noise and crossed your arms.

You were driving him up the fucking wall. He’d broken his favorite blender making his breakfast, which just ruined his mood for the day. He hadn’t meant to get Great Nana kicked out of her nursing home. Yet, she was back in your apartment with her bags. Firing Julio might have been a mistake. Turns out Julio drove you all over hell and creation around Boston. He was going to need to hire a new driver asap. One that didn’t stare at your shapely ass. Your nephews principle was no better. That dirty fuck had been staring at you, like he wanted to do what Ransom did to you on a daily basis. How could he not say something?

As for Nadia?

His grandfather had known Nadia. Harlan hadn’t liked her either.

“Look, I’m interviewing a new driver this afternoon when we get back from the school. Just get off my back!”

You tossed your hands up in surrender, then looked out the window.

“Have you looked at any of the brochures I fou…”

Immediately your voice grew cold. Your eyes remained on the passing city traffic. “I’ll send you away to boarding school before I send my nephews.”

Out of everything, that was something you’d not bend on.

You let Ransom’s Great Nana come stay in a guest room, until Linda returned from her month-long European River Cruise, celebrating her divorce.

You let Ransom essentially run your household like he was the head of it, because he did a really good job. All the bills were paid, you had a new chef that was just amazing, everything was neat, and in its place, he helped you organize your late husband’s charity work to name a few reasons right off the top of your head. 

“Fine!” He snarled at you, “You need to hire a nanny to help out with them.”

Unable to help yourself, you crossed your legs and sighed, “I hired several nannies. You fired them. Maybe you should sit in on the interviews I have Monday?”

“You bet your ass I am!”

Ransom had never told you why he fired the three nannies. All he told you was they didn’t fit. Whatever the hell that meant. Ransom never told you about that the nice sweet college aged student you hired who was studying education. She’d been full of energy and excited, the boys liked her, you thought she was perfect. 

She’d made a pass at Ransom, which he took great offense to.

She’d had the audacity to hit on him, touch him, in his own home, someone you had hired to help look after your nephews after school in the afternoon. Ransom had been greatly offended. How she could have even thought he’d want to slum it with the staff? And when she called him Ransom like you did? When she didn’t call him Hugh? She had to go.

The next nanny was a guy, one with a degree in psychology and early childhood development. The second he asked the boys about how they felt about their Mom leaving, Ransom threw him out.

The day before yesterday, he’d physically threw out the middle-aged woman and it taken everything not to hit her when she’d raised her voice at the older nephew. That one happened to be Ransom’s favorite. The older boy had fire. No one was going to raise their voice to your nephews in his house. She hadn’t said anything rude or cruel, Ransom just didn’t like her tone. She needed to remember her place. 

“Why don’t you just stay home with them? You’ve got enough money. You can hire people to do all your charity work behind the scenes. Just show up for the big events.”

Perhaps he had an ulterior motive for asking that question too.

Perhaps you’d been thinking about doing just that, but couldn’t quite find a way to tell your younger sister, the emergency room doctor, that you were feeling overwhelmed and stressed from all your philanthropy. She would not be understanding.

“Last time I hired someone to take over on one of Chip’s charities they embezzled two hundred thousand dollars and ran off to the Cayman Islands. Now…I salute them for their audacity, but it was such a pain in the ass to deal with legally…I’ll just bring the boys around with me, until I can find someone to keep an eye on them the afternoons I’m working.” Inspiration poked at you, you glanced over at him as he made an illegal turn. “You come from money. What’d your parents do with you for childcare?”

If there was one thing Ransom hated, it was talking about his family. Had you not been friends with his mother, you wouldn’t have known a thing about his family life.

Off-handedly, as if he could have cared less, he shrugged, “My father was home with me.” Which was about all Ransom was prepared to say on the matter. He hadn’t exactly thought too far ahead, from the point when he impregnated you and would have a tie in to your fortune through genetics, much like his Aunt Joni. But now that he had thought about any future off-spring he fathered, someone would have to raise said off-spring. If he wanted a big fat child support check every month, there was a distinct possibility he would have to play an active role in the rearing of his eventual child.

Cousin Meg wasn’t always a twenty-something majoring in social justice, or whatever the kids these days were doing.

This would take more effort than he initially planned.

“So…”

Not blinking before making an illegal left turn, Ransom snapped back at you, “Drop it! I don’t want to talk about my damn family.”

Rather smugly, you pursed your lips. “I wasn’t asking about your family dipshit. Believe it or not…the world doesn’t revolve around you and your personal problems.”

“Ok! Fine! Whatever, you made your point. So? What is it?”

Another red light.

What the fuck was this? Were they all conspiring against him? He slammed the brakes on his beamer, making you jerk forward in your seat. He then gave you the world’s most impatiently annoyed look possible.

“Speak! Please! I wouldn’t want to overburden you with my personal problems!”

Traffic began to add up around you. You found yourself smoothing your hands over the black skirt of your dress. “My sister wants me to go out on a date with a surgeon at her hospital.”

“So,” came from Ransom.

So?

Your heart pounded. You couldn’t quite look at him.

You knew he wasn’t the serious type. But you’d hoped for more than a reaction than a ‘so.’ You yourself weren’t looking for a new husband or even a boyfriend. You didn’t even think you were cut out for a relationship. You were a bit busy. But you’d been hoping, hoping that you could maybe figure out just where you stood with your butler. You weren’t about to call him a friend, neither of you were capable of friendship and that was fine with you. A friend wasn’t someone you were trying to get pregnant by, a friend wasn’t someone you confided in the way you confided in Ransom. You didn’t put unconditional trust in a friend the way you put trust in Ransom. Maybe some people did, but not you. 

The fact that you even cared about his reaction disgusted you. You were ashamed of your sudden weakness, your sudden lapse in character.

“So you’re fine with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be,” he snapped back.

Now you had absolutely no interest in this surgeon. Nor did you want to date anyone.

But that wasn’t the point.

Now it was the principle of the matter.

You totally should have just gone to the sperm bank, like your sisters suggested in order to have your baby. While riding Ransoms fabulous dick every chance you got was a ton of fun, he was beginning to make you wonder about things that just disgusted you down on a basic level, a level you never scratched when it’d come to your late beloved elderly husband, Chip.

Did Ransom intend to stick around for long after you managed to get your heir from him? Without a doubt, you’d be paying him some sort of settlement complete with a nondisclosure agreement. You’d never had a father yourself. So you didn’t see how he would have much of a role in your life beyond butler and BabyDaddy. And while it would simplify things so much if he took off, like the fathers of your nephews, who were still a mystery, much like the whereabouts of Jimmy Hoffa. You couldn’t help but already miss fighting with the man.

Watching your nephews interact with Ransom, in the weeks since your loser sister had taken off, was confusing. The two of them followed him around like baby waterfowl. It’d been why you’d hired the male nanny. You’d even watched a couple of episodes of Doctor Phil, to try and understand it. Perhaps there was something to the whole male influence on two young boys? 

Maybe your older sister the MD was correct?

Maybe you just were not cut out for human relationships?

Maybe you needed to finally find a nice normal guy? One who could provide your life what you were unable, compliment you, like a puzzle piece? 

A man who could be a good stable role model around your nephews. A good stable man who could father your future heirs. A stable man who wouldn’t run off, or fire household staff on a regular basis.

Your sister seemed bizarrely obsessed with stability.

And while she’d go as far as say that Ransom would make a pretty baby, she could not deal with Chip and now Ransom in her life. Especially since Ransom would not be dying in the near future, being nowhere near elderly like Chip had been when you married the delightfully malicious millionaire. God you missed that man.

Was it too much to ask for, to have a little partner in crime? Someone who would be at your side for all your stupid charity events and planning, who could both help and amuse you? Ransom was snarky and rude and a perpetually raging asshole. You’d thought that maybe he’d be the one who could fill your figurative void, so you wouldn’t be bored.

You didn’t think you’d ever find another Chip, not twice in one life and now you were sure of it.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he ground out, because the words were actually uncomfortable to say. A weird feeling settled over his chest. Was he having an infarction? “I don’t give a flying shit what you do.”

***

As it turned out, Ransom did care. 

Ransom cared a lot about what you did. 

For the rest of the day, he was in a darker mood than usual and had your blind date that night not been cancelled on account of an emergency surgery, Ransom had been planning on calling in a bomb threat to the hospital.

It wasn’t his most proud moment.

It was a confusing time for him.

What he needed to do was go get drunk. He needed to have sex with a strange woman to prove he could still do it, and shake this weird hold you had over him. What was he doing? He was returning from a trip to the drug store, for Great Nana, like some kind of fucking house husband. It was utterly disgusting.

He threw the bag from CVS in your general direction, from the doorway.

You didn’t even look up from where you getting the bed ready for Great Nana.

“Ransom?”

His gaze flickered towards Great Nana for a second.

“When is my new driver arriving in the morning?” You didn’t look at him. You were busy fluffing up the bed for his ancient relative. A woman with a limited vocabulary, absolutely zero shits and who seemed to be wearing every piece of jewelry and fur she owned. You hoped to be that kickass when you hit old age one day. 

“He’s not. I didn’t hire him.”

At that, you stood and turned to frown at Ransom. “What? I need a driver tomorrow.”

Great Nana looked around, “Ransom?”

Cost be damned, his mother was getting a phone call.

“What the hell do you need a driver for,” he snarled at you. Bringing up a very good point. “You own four cars in the garage. Just drive one. Even an idiot can do it.”

You did not pick up the pharmacy bag.

Nor did you look over to Nana, who stood by a large floor to ceiling window that over-looked the city skyline, holding her bag Sophia Petrillo style.

Like every bedroom in your apartment, it was big. Just across the hall were the boys, who assured you they’d listen for Great Nana over the night. They’d been quite thrilled with the new addition to your household. They’d never had a grandparent before, so it was quite exciting.

“I can’t drive Ransom,” you told him in a low voice, not wanting to wake them up.

“Sure you can. This is Boston. Women are allowed to drive here.”

You clenched your fists.

You took a deep breath. 

He sounded so sure, so cocky, so positive. You were exhausted after a long day that was not made any better by his shit. “I don’t have a license Ransom.” 

This led him to cock his head to the side. Hands were placed in the doorframe to allow him to lean in. “What do you mean you don’t have a license?”

If he’d been rude or obnoxious, you would have handled it better.

And then he went there. 

“Everyone has a driver’s license. Chip didn’t think to leave you one of those?”

That was it.

Hands went on your hips and he saw the change in you, like a snap. It was then Ransom realized that a mistake had been made. A big grievous mistake.

“No he didn’t Ransom. You see, when you were fucking around Massachusetts and the greater New England area, living it up, before you killed your grandfather’s housekeeper because you’re a prick, I was working four jobs to support my sisters. We didn’t grow up with a Mommy and Daddy who loved us. I never learned how to drive cause, I was busting my ass to provide.”

Then, you threw the pillow you’d been fluffing.

“Ransom,” came from Grant Nana once more.

However, you were done with Ransom’s shit for the day.

The brunet opened his mouth to argue with you. However, the switch had been flipped. You stormed over to him and grabbed a hold of his cashmere coat and silk scarf, which you used to drag him along behind you.

“Don’t give me that shit! I didn’t have a fun childhood either,” he ranted at you as he passed a Picasso on the wall, then a Jackson Pollock.

You dragged him along behind you as you simmered.

“My parents were hardly around either, and wrapped up in their own shit. Don’t give me your little sob story because I didn’t hire that weird old man to be your driver. And knowing you, you’d probably try to marry the old fuck!”

By then you’d dragged him further down the hallway and into a common area, the front door to your apartment just drawing ever closer. You needed just a few hours of peace. You needed some quiet.

Unfortunately, you were unable to let that comment slide.

Jabbing his chest with your other finger, you snarled at him. “You. Had. Parents. I raised my sisters. I got married at twenty years old because it made good financial sense! Tell me Ransom, have you ever gone hungry? You ever have to make the choice between paying rent to keep a roof over your head, or paying the water and electricity?”

He was quiet.

On you went because you had yet to deliver the killing blow. “Those were my teenage years, while you were learning to drive and fucking your way through private school. Hell, your little adventure in jail sounded more fun than my formative years! Don’t give me any of your privileged shit, about how Mommy and Daddy didn’t pay attention to you!”

And that was around the point when Ransom yanked out of your grip.

He eyes blazed in hatred.

He shoved past you and stormed towards the door. You were hot on his heels.

When it was clear he was storming out, you were grateful.

Hell, you hurried ahead to unlock your front door for him. And when he stormed past you, you seethed, so as not to freak out Great Nana or wake your nephews. “You know what Ransom! Find another place to sleep tonight and don’t come back till I have a new driver!”

He didn’t look back.

He did however, flip you off.

You did slam the door and lock every lock on it, not even waiting to see if he took the elevator or stairs.

***

It was around two in the am when pounding woke you up.

Loud pounding, shouting and general discontentment seemed to float down the halls of your dark apartment.

At first, you thought you were dreaming.

At first, you thought it was a nightmare.

And then, you realized it was a nightmare.

As you lifted your head from your pillow, listened closely, you began to understand that someone was pounding and screaming on your penthouse door. Being loud enough for you to hear all the way on the near clear other side. 

Who the hell was making that much of a fuss?

Why hadn’t Ransom got up and…and then you remembered throwing Ransom out. And you remembered Ransom was on probation and everyone in your building, minus you and the boys, and maybe Great Nana, she was a nut you were still working on cracking, absolutely hated him.

Ransom was going to get the cops called on him.

That sobering realization went through you.

You couldn’t lose Ransom. It would take you forever to find a butler as competent as him, as mean and rude and sarcastic as him.

In bare feet, you stumbled out of bed, scurried across your bedroom, hurried down the winding dark hallways and ever closer to the increasingly louder yelling, that echoed through your dark home.

Quickly, you made it into the colorful front entrance room, decorated with priceless art. A big marble-topped antique table with a large colorful blown glass vase holding flowers, along with several chairs that you’d bought because they were so ugly they made Ransom roll his eyes. Instantly you could tell your butler was belligerent, plus in a state of intoxication.

Wasn’t that just fabulous?

He pounded so hard on the door, you assumed he’d left marks.

Quickly as you could, you flipped all the locks as you wondered what in the hell his problem was, as he had keys. It wasn’t like he couldn’t get in.

Unless he forgot his keys?

You were this close to raiding Great Nana’s pills to give something to Ransom, just to knock his ass out for the night.

“What in the hell is your problem! Could you be any louder! Get your ass to bed before I call the cops on you!”

A crash came when he stumbled right into the marble topped round table. He knocked the Chihuly vase to the floor, where it crashed loudly into hundreds of little colorful pieces, with water and flowers decorating the mess.

Why the hell had you been so freaking emotional earlier over this man?

You were ready to kill him. And that was before you saw his sweater had blood on it. He smelled like a distillery. There was a darkening bruise on one of those perfect cheekbones and his dark hair was all messy.

“You know what…you don’t get to give me shit cause…I went to private school and know how to drive! Who doesn’t know how to drive!”

That was it.

Forget the surgeon.

You weren’t going to socially see anyone, under seventy years old, ever again.

“Are you drunk Ransom?”

“No! I am not drunk!” He shouted at you, then paused to correct, in a mildly more reasonable tone. “I might be a little buzzed.”

You were going to the sperm bank too.

Nothing in your life had ever been traditional.

Why on earth would you want to have a baby the old fashion way? Your sister was right. That was why God created sperm banks. For women to get the sperm, without having to deal with the men. You were seeing the brilliance of it in that exact moment. Especially when you looked down at all the broken glass from your favorite vase.

“This is all your fault!”

You just couldn’t wait to hear what came out of his mouth next, as he struggled to yank off his coat, with no luck.

“You’re in my damn head all the time!”

Grabbing his arm, you tried to give him a good tug to get him heading towards his bedroom. “Ransom you need to go to bed. You need to drink some water. You’re gonna want to sleep all this off.”

Ransom was having none of it.

He’d spent hours at a bar stewing, barely drinking, thinking, considering things and pissed off. Pissed that he wasn’t at all interested in the really hot bartender who’d given him her number, then invited him into the back, twice.

Yanking free from you, his eyes wandered. Seeing you had on nothing more than a big baggy nightshirt and maybe a pair of panties, beneath all that grey cotton fabric and God help him, he wanted nothing more than you. That bartender had been sweet and giggly. She’d flirted hard and had a body meant for Instagram. Did he sneak off into the back to give her one for God and Country? No. He couldn’t even summon up more than a passing interest. Ok, maybe a peek or two at that body, crafted by the Gods and Boston’s finest plastic surgeons.

“There was a gorgeous piece of ass at the bar who wanted me! She wanted to take me in the back and suck my dick right there!”

You paused. 

Your arms crossed and an eyebrow rose.

Drunk Ransom was mouthy, too mouthy. Drunk Ransom would tell you anything, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for what Drunk Ransom was about to share.

“I could have had my dick sucked by this woman! She looked like one of those Kardashians…the cute little one with the ass made for fucking…not the one with the short hair, I don’t like that one.” You really weren’t prepared for this at all. Maybe you should go raid Great Nana’s stash? Then you could maybe have this conversation with Ransom? Then, as if you had said something, he went on, approaching you, jabbing you in the chest. “I didn’t though! I can’t! Do you know how many fucking women I don’t want because of you! I can’t look at another woman without comparing her to you! The last time I had sex before you…with Donna…remember Donna?”

Yes, you remembered Donna.

In response you nodded, hoping to speed this drunken unpleasantness along, “Yup. I remember Donna.”

Ransom grabbed your shirt and pulled you close, close enough that your body was pulled against him. You could smell scotch on him. You could smell cigar smoke on his clothes. His eyes seemed darker than usual, although, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull free, or even look away. 

You wanted to hear what he had to say.

“When I fucked Donna, I couldn’t finish unless I was thinking about you,” he hissed down at you. Leaning even closer, with nothing but pure rage in his eyes at you. “I used to have to turn off the lights, or close my eyes and pretend it was you. If not, I’d have to fucking fake it. Otherwise I’d just be wasting a condom.”

Something was wrong with you.

You were turned on by that way too much.

Before he could say another word, you grabbed his face and you kissed him. Definitely tasting expensive scotch. Smelling cigars for sure mixed with his cologne and something else, salty maybe, had he been down by the water? You didn’t care. You slid your fingers up into his soft hair, as he did his best to kiss you in his buzzed state.

There were some crossed wires because of the alcohol. Lips didn’t totally match up, you weren’t exactly falling into each other full on Hallmark Movie Channel Kiss. Teeth nipped, lips didn’t connect, there was biting and licking and hair pulling. Like some sort of wild animal show on the TV, where the one animal was trying to eat the other one.

He was pushing you back, so much bigger than you.

His hands were yanking on your soft nightshirt and before you could say anything, something hit the back of your leg. You stumbled back, tripped really. Finding yourself chirping out in alarm, as you pitched back into one of the art chairs, that one he hated so much. Even you had to admit, they were funky looking.

You’d fallen into the one that literally looked like a veterinary animal cone, with three spikes sticking out of it that served as chair legs. It was all black metal that was cold against your back and legs. As Ransom had yanked off your sleeping shirt and upon his attempts to pull off your panties, he announced to you with absolute sincerity, dropping down onto his knees right before you. “I love eating your pussy. Have I ever told you that?”

And with a few yanks, he had your panties off.

You were totally in your birthday suit while he was still dressed, buzzed and sporting quite the tent in his charcoal slacks.

“You’re so god damn responsive. You get so fucking wet…I mean really, just look at that,” he sighed, yanking your legs up so you fell backwards in the chair. Settling more than a bit awkwardly. If he noticed he didn’t care. His cerulean gaze was focused on what was between your legs. Fingers pulled your intimate folds apart and his mouth was on you. His tongue touched you, making you moan, making you open your legs wider, fling one over his broad shoulder as he began to devour you.

His tongue swirled around your clit without mercy. He plunged a finger inside of you while he reached up with his other hand, palmed your breast and flicked your nipple. Hard enough that it ached more than it ever had, made you cry out from his ministrations on your body.

A hand of yours sank down into his chestnut hair as you cried out. Whined and moaned, just enjoyed his attentions after all his shit that you’d put up with throughout that day.

You wouldn’t even lie and say it wasn’t hot to hear how noisy he got, the wetter you got. Feeling his smooth face against your thighs was a treat in itself. You almost came the second he started to suck on your clit, sliding two fingers up into you.

“Shit Ransom…”

Right…now you remembered, this was why you wanted to make a baby the old-fashioned way. Flipping through the book of possible sperm donors had been fun. Like getting to pick out what you wanted in your first BabyDaddy, the way you had picked out what you wanted in your recently renovated bathroom.

His larger hand roughly cupped your breast, making you cry out.

Tomorrow, tomorrow you’d have to discuss him taking a break for a couple days on the girls, because damn, you could not remember them ever being that sensitive. Either that, or you’d just wear a bra the next time you had sex. But jeezsus, did he feel good. Sure, his technique was a little sloppy from the alcohol. His enthusiasm was winning you over. Your bare calf brushed over the tent in the front of his pants. 

You didn’t want to wait.

“Now Ransom…now, please…” You begged, leaning up and reaching for him, your hand finding layers and layers of clothing.

Even buzzed, or drunk, or whatever his BAC Level was at that moment, he understood exactly what it was you needed from him. Ransom rocked back on his loafers to unbutton his pants. You were wiggling out of the chair. Ransom got his zipper down. You were on your feet and then dropping down to your knees, between his thighs. A quick glance over to where all the shards of broken glass were, flowers and water too. 

Unable to wait or maneuver out of his pants, Ransom just pushed the waistband of his black boxer-briefs down to free his painful erection. It sprang out and you whined. You literally whined at the sight of it. Swollen, veins traced up along the sides, weeping precum at the tip. It was a thing of beauty. Just the knowledge of how much pleasure that part of Ransom had brought you over the past few months, it made you reach for him with greedy hands.

Your eagerness paired with his intoxication made for some awkward maneuvering. For the first time in a long time, you felt like an uncoordinated virgin.

You were hopping onto his lap. Ransom was trying to sheath himself inside of you, missing, or hitting the inside of your thigh at that weird angle. You were clinging to him, moving around to try and not slide off all his clothes. Ransom couldn’t seem to quite get a good grip on you, from all your moving and slipping and his being maybe possibly a little impaired. All he was doing was smearing precum on the inside of your thigh, and that was not going to cut it.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

You did, or you tried.

Ransom was already climbing up on his Gucci loafers. Standing on those long legs of his, as you did your best to hook both of your legs around his waist. His coat made it difficult to get a good grip. All his moving made you slip on his clothing even more.

How did it look so easy on the movies?

And then your back hit the wall. Your head smacked soundly against your drywall.

You cried out in pain. Right around the time, Ransom finally hit you just right and slid into your body, ripping out another cry at the sudden entrance. Because shit, he wasn’t small paired with the total penetration at that particular angle, it had you seeing stars. Your heels dug painfully down into his muscular ass. You gasped and looked upwards, trying to remember how to breathe as he remained still, unmoving, kissing your face and neck and throat. Kissing you wherever he could as your body adjusted. His fingers sank into your ass.

You began to nod, “Ok…go slow…it’s ok now.”

Slowly he began to move, pumping his hips into you almost agonizingly slow, not to torment, no, but a hesitation most likely in his impaired state, as he overcompensated and you were cool with it. Your fingers gripped his cashmere coat and you gasped at the feeling of him so deeply inside of you.

The feeling of his clothes under your bare skin was different, almost an additional bit of stimulation for you. Being speared open on his dick was so overwhelming, but paired with the soft feeling of his slacks against the insides of your thighs, and his sweater and coat rubbing your chest and nipples, it was a wonderful mix of sensations.

All of Ransom’s world narrowed down to the hot, wet, soft hell between your legs. Every push and pull was torture and bliss. Your skin smelled clean and fresh. The way you clung to him was everything. Nothing could ever compare.

Ransom’s orgasm set yours off.

Frantically his hips pumped, knocking you back into the wall, over and over, every instinct in him screaming to get further into you, cum inside of you, push in till not a bit of space remained between either of you. You cried out, tensed up, coiled tightly around him as your body shattered around his cock. It was so much you gasped deeply against his neck. Animalistically, he grunted, continuing to pound into you, ejaculating into you, eyes clenched, lips parted, fingers digging painfully into your fleshy ass, undoubtedly leaving behind bruises.

“Oh shit Ransom…” you breathed against his shoulder. Your body went limp. Your orgasm still twitching around him as it slowly wound down, slowly released you from its grip.

Spent, he sagged against you, pinning you to the wall, wedging himself further inside of you.

“You feel me in you?”

Against him, you nodded and moaned.

Ransom’s grip on your ass tightened. “You want me to stay in your pussy tonight? All night? In my bed?”

Wordlessly, you continued to nod.

Ok, sure, you would have agreed to just about anything at that point.

Feeling boneless, you clung to your lover as he began to make his way down the hallway to his room. Assuring you with every step he took, “I’m staying in this pussy for the rest of the night. Every drop, every fuckin drop’ll stay in and when you wake up, you’re going to have my baby. You want that? You want my baby?”

Into his coat you moaned, “Yes.” His clumsy steps were jostling him just the right way, to feel just perfect against your overly sensitive clit.

Again you felt it, that tilt of the axis in your world.

A weird sensation that you’d felt only once before, on the morning Chip went shark diving. An aneurysm taking him much too soon from you. You’d felt it earlier that day in the car and now, now in his arms. Something was wrong. Something was different. Womanly intuition your sisters had called it. It twisted around like a foreign invader in the pit of your stomach.

Like earlier that day in the car, and the morning you wheeled Chip onto the dive boat, you ignored it.

Ransom was too young to be so ill and there were no sharks around. Well, finned sharks anyway. You decided that you would ignore it again. You’d go to Ransom’s bed and for as long as you could, enjoy his body and company.

If the universe favored you this time, maybe you’d have something to show for your night soon.

***

Ransom woke up feeling like there was a rave going on in his head.

His head pounded viciously. It pounded so hard he was afraid his skull was at risk of fracturing. While he didn’t think he’d drank that much. He didn’t normally drink scotch. What in the hell had possessed him to drink scotch?

When he opened his eyes, he noticed a few things right away.

He noticed that on the floor, mere inches away from his dangling arm, was the small trash can from his bathroom. Beside that was a bottle of water. 

Ransom noticed that he was face down on his bed, nude and surrounded by his clothes.

According to the clock on his nightstand, it was nearly ten and based on the sounds coming from other parts of the apartment, it was a Saturday morning. He’d slept in.

A distinctive shuffle noise got his attention.

“Ransom…” came a raspy voice.

This made Ransom lift his head. Sure enough, with a shout, he locked eyes with Great Nana.

“Jesus Christ on a stick…fucking shit Great Nana…” He gasped and then reached around for something, anything, to cover up with, because for fuck sake, this was not how he envisioned his future a few months ago. 

God no. 

He’d planned to have greater access to your money. You be compliant and dick-drunk. There were no nephews staying for an indeterminable amount of time. Great Nana sure as hell wasn’t shuffling around the apartment, and while Ransom was willing to admit, as he rolled around his Queen bed, pulling on clothes from the other night as quick as he could, that getting Great Nana thrown out of her nursing home was his fault. Maybe calling the nurses incompetent and the director a cock-sucking-clown had not been his best move, you didn’t have to take Great Nana in with open arms. There were plenty of other nursing homes in the Greater Boston area as well as Thromby Relations.

He didn’t sign on to be a butler for your nephews too, or to live with fucking Great Nana.

He wasn’t about to tolerate this shit. Not one bit.

Soon Ransom had on pants and a sweater he found among his sheets, which alerted him that he clearly had a great time while buzzed on scotch. Once his headache went away, he’d better have a few dirty memories to remember it by, he was giving you a piece of his mind. 

Better yet, you were getting an ultimatum.

Dressed enough, he stormed around his bed, head a raging nightmare.

He grabbed Great Nana and was off.

Ransom made it down a hallway with the slow-moving centennial. He’d made it down another, hand on her arm, walking at a freakin snails-pace, when he heard the voices, your voice and your fucking sister Sarah’s voice.

Sarah the god damn doctor.

Sarah who hated him as much as he hated her, was always conspiring to get him fired.

It sounded like the two of you were in the kitchen.

Ransom quick stopped and pulled Great Nana against him.

He didn’t like at all the way Sarah talked, or the defeated way you sounded. Not one bit. 

“…look I just don’t want to go out with this surgeon guy tonight. I don’t want to go out with anyone. I just want to stay home and chill. I’m exhausted. The boys have huge school projects next week. I got stuck planning two fundraisers, a silent auction and the charity ball. I just can’t Sarah.”

Clearly, Sarah was having none of it. “That’s just the point! You can’t do it all on your own anymore. You have the boys and that Nana woman now. I actually think you should keep Nana and send Ransom off to greener pastures. He’s pretty. Someone will hire him in a flash and…don’t make that face at me. We both know you aren’t ever getting remarried and he’s been a bigger pill than ever since Lisa ran off to California. The second he finds out she signed custody over to you, he’s going to be gone. We can hire more staff. Nothing stays the same forever.”

At first, Ransom was outraged.

All of it had him gripping Great Nana and fantasizing about stabbing Sarah, and then your other fucking loser sister Lisa.

Sarah however went on, giving him, perhaps, one of his biggest moments of clarity ever.

He never even had a chance to dwell on the horrific news of the nephews staying.

“Look, I know appealing to your emotions doesn’t work. But how about money? You like money. If you just keep doing the same things with your money it stagnates. You want to grow your money. You grow Chip’s money every year. Apply that to your personal life…you can’t go on forever living in this big ass apartment, banging your butler forever. There’s no growth. Ransom will always remain the same spoiled prick. He’s probably already mentally spending the settlement, and child support, he’ll sue you for the second you get a positive pregnancy test. He isn’t looking big picture any more than you are. It’s not like he’s offered to step in and help you with your work? He isn’t looking to grow with you, he’s looking out for number one and you have to look out for your best interests. If you really want to create a dynasty, you’ll have to find someone who wants to help you build it.”

Your fucking sister was right.

She was one hundred percent right.

Ransom leaned against the wall, blue eyes blazing as he realized his mistake. He’d been going about this all wrong.

That fucking court appointed psychologist was wrong. He wasn’t happy because he was unable to form healthy attachments and life habits. He wasn’t happy because he wasn’t looking big picture.

Why the hell would he just want a settlement? A small monthly stipend for one child?

Ransom wanted it all.

Ransom wanted to grow too. 

Ransom wanted access to the fortune.

Ransom never realized how much more he wanted. No wonder you’d been acting so weird, all emotional and bringing up needing help. You’d been trying to tell him and he’d been too shit-assed pigheaded to notice. 

Well not anymore.

It was all so clear to him now.

Sounds of a young male voice began to drift out of the kitchen.

Ransom could easily take over for you with your philanthropy work. Ransom knew how to do all of that. Ransom didn’t mind your nephews and if they were that important to you, he could put them to good use in the, what had Sarah called it, the family dynasty, that you were wanting to build.

God, that was enough to make him hard even with his pounding head.

A dynasty meant a bigger family. 

Why the fuck would he want to settle for child support, and a payout settlement for one kid? Only to have another man step in to father multiple kids? Another man step in to help you with your businesses, philanthropy, all your property and investments, plus whatever else? Ransom thought the fuck not.

When Sarah spoke again, he perked up.

“Look, just go out with Doctor Wood tonight for dinner. Nothing else. I’ll watch the boys. It’ll be good to just get out and enjoy a night on the town. When was the last time you went on a date with a nice guy? One who didn’t want to bend you over a piece of furniture?”

Ransom could hear you sigh, but quietly agree to go out.

Ransom knew you better. 

Ransom knew you weren’t the type to enjoy a night out with some boring nice guy, making small talk at a restaurant of his choosing, and then to not get bent over a piece of furniture. That would just irritate you.

“Aunties…the classroom pet got out…I can’t find him anywhere…”

Didn’t you just say yesterday, in his beamer, that he hadn’t made a scene in a while?

“Batman escaped,” your voice rose with concern.

“Who the hell is Batman,” Sarah questioned.

Well, Ransom was going to make a scene. He was going to make the scene of all scenes. Not only to prove to you that there was no fucking way you’d ever be going out with anyone for dinner other than him, ever again, but that he’d be the one to build your dynasty with you. You’d only ever be having his children. He’d be the one raising your nephews. Hell, he’d even adopt them and give them his name. Boy would that piss off his father to no end.

By the end of the day, you’d have absolutely no doubt who would be by your side.

By the end of the day, you’d never again question his intentions.

“Batman is the classroom tarantula that we have for the weekend,” came your concerned voice.

By the end of the day, there would be a pet policy concerning fucking bugs too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::Thank you all for your amazing feedback! Comments just make my day! You guys are the best! I didn't think my Ransom story would find too many readers, with two really horrible people. But it seems I am not the only one who finds great amusement in two psycho's finding each other. LOL. I hope you all enjoy!::

There was nothing wrong with this man.

He was polite.

He was handsome.

He was a surgeon.

He took you to a very nice restaurant. A restaurant in the heart of Boston. One that had reservations booked a year in advance, with a chef who was the buzz of the culinary world.

Ok, so maybe he was a little soft around the middle? 

Your beloved Chip had been in his eighties when you married him

You hired a convicted murderer to be your butler.

You were not a person who judged on first impressions. You had a lot of faults. Like…a whole lotta faults…but being judgmental was not one.

You were not digging this man because you were bored.

You were so bored.

Dressing up had been such a mistake, you were never going to forgive your sister for this blind date. She was probably home laughing hysterically, raiding your liquor cabinet and watching SharkWeek with your nephews. That night were all episodes about shark attacks. 

It was so unfair.

You’d originally planned on wearing the little black number you wore to Chip’s funeral.

You liked to pull out that vintage Chanel a few times a year for special occasions. Chip would have appreciated joining you on a blind date. However, Sarah put her foot down which was how you found yourself in a near constant state of understimulation, somewhat nauseous from the smell of salmon at the next table over and wearing your third most over the top dress reserved for gala’s and nights out. A long-sleeved silver number, heavy on embellishments that caught the light nearly as much as the rocks in your ears, which Chip had given you for your twenty-first birthday. And the wedding ring on your hand, that was probably visible from the moon.

If you were going to be out and risk the chance of appearing in the tabloids the next morning, you were going to look every bit the seventh most wealthy widow in the world.

“Wow, I hadn’t realized how much I’d been talking. Please. Tell me about yourself. I get so passionate when I talk about my humanitarian work. I tend to lose track and time just flies.”

For the past forty minutes.

Forty minutes of nearly uninterrupted talk about his work with inner city clinics, Doctors without Borders and a number of other non-profits. So far, the most positive thing about Doctor Wood, was all his work probably kept him out of the house most of the time. Those forty minutes of your life had only been broken up by a bathroom trip. Unfortunately, the bathroom window was too small to crawl out of. All you were able to do was get some fresh air and then curse your sister vehemently, before leaving and going back to your table, which was overlooking the water and right by the bathroom.

Clearly you were being punished for something.

Since you wanted the date to wrap up as soon as humanly possible, you smiled from across the table in a polite sort of way. You’d eaten most of your soup, but hadn’t had the stomach for anything else on the menu and had been picking at a piece of bread.

Doctor Wood thought you were just nervous. You didn’t correct him. You didn’t care what he thought.

“Tell you about me…” You mused, eyeing the candles and flowers on the table between the two of you. “Well I’m in the process of starting my own family and am thinking of doing something special to memorialize my dear Chip. On this fifth anniversary of his death, I’m going to have a séance.”

And then you waited.

What could you say? You were bored.

The either Greek or Italian American man choked on his steak. A few pieces of black hair fell across his forehead, as he grabbed for a napkin.

That was better.

Chip would have been proud.

You kept your face impassive.

You watched the good doctor grab his wine and sip deeply, before turning his warm brown eyes on you. “Your…your um, sister, Sarah, didn’t mention that, that you were already actively starting a family.”

You traced your fingertip around the rim of your Sprite.

It seemed to be the only drink you could stomach.

If one of your nephews brought home another virus or cold from that petri dish otherwise known as a school, the principal would be getting another scathing email.

When you didn’t offer more details, he went on, as you pondered, figured his name must have come from his father because he had the most gorgeous healthy tan in Boston you’d seen in ages. 

“So…are you seeking fertility treatments? IVF? If you don’t mind me asking. It is a very personal question, so I understand if you’d rather not.”

You sent him another one of your polite smiles.

Your cheeks were going to be killing you by the time this night was over. “Not at all, I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t prepared to talk about it…” When he breathed a sigh of relief, you leaned back in your chair, fingertips walking along the red table cloth. “…I’m a bit traditional. So, I’ve been screwing my butler on every flat surface in my apartment and letting him go raw inside of me.”

Doctor Wood turned red.

You let that sit.

Finally, he let out a bark of laughter, assuming you were making a joke.

Unable to help yourself, you smirked slightly. Especially when he twitched a little. A nervous tic? You could have fun with that. Maybe this date didn’t have to be boring. Your fingers walked on over to your silverware. “During the séance…I want to ask my dearly departed Chip, what he thinks I should name the baby. He so dearly wanted his own children. He had so much in common with small children. He loved pureed foods. He loved to take naps. I don’t know if Sarah told you or not, but, Chip was the one who introduced me to the joys of a good spanking.”

Silence. Dead silence.

“It’ll be on the next full moon. We’ve hired Boston’s leading Dark Priestess if you’d like to come. Oooo…do you think you could bring some blood from the hospital?”

Most unfortunately, you were unable to enjoy the expression of pure shock on your dates face. 

No sooner had those words come out, did louder, angrier words get yelled at you from behind. Making you turn in your seat and see none other than your butler, which was quite the surprise, Ransom’d been making himself scarce all day. No doubt a combination of a hangover, your sister being at your apartment all day and it being his day off.

“There the fuck you are!”

In what could only be described as being in an incandescent rage, Ransom approached your table in the full restaurant, looking utterly delicious. For fucks sake. Doctor Man across the table had on a suit. But Ransom, oh Ransom. Dark slacks, a white long sleeve shirt underneath that stretched indecently across that broad ass chest and that tan jacket with that scarf.

A confused, yet concerned noise came from your date.

Ransom stopped maybe a foot from you, azure eyes blazing. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” He shouted loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear. Loud enough to quiet the room and turn nearly every head. “You’re not allowed to go out with any-fucking-one anymore! That shit stopped when you started riding my cock like some sort of possessed she-demon!”

He was like…the most perfect soul in all of Boston in that moment.

The only way you could get anymore turned on, would have been if he pulled your hair, or slapped your ass. Maybe even both.

You stood, unable to even help yourself.

Even in your pumps, you weren’t near eye to eye with Ransom. And God did he smell good.

What had he told you yesterday?

Oh yes, you remembered.

You even pulled out the big guns, finger quotes, as you yelled right back, “Oh excuse me! I thought you didn’t give a shit what I did!”

Ransom knew those words were going to come back and bite him in the ass.

You could bite him pretty much wherever you wanted and shit, did you look good in that dress that covered everything. Long sleeves, it hit your knees and barely hinted at cleavage. But he knew what was under it. The fact that he knew just how much it cost too. You may have unfortunately been ‘new money.’ But you weren’t trashy. 

“Apparently I was wrong! Now go get your ass in my car! You’ve tormented this poor schlep long enough!”

You rose higher, standing probably on your toes to get closer to his face. One manicured finger pointing menacingly at him “I’m not done playing with him yet!”

All day long he’d been planning, plotting, conspiring.

He’d do this in a crowded restaurant, in front of who was who in Boston. Ransom did not give one shit.

Seeing you with whoever the hell you were having dinner with though, knowing he’d been inside you the night before, that everything he’d worked so hard for was on the verge of collapse. Oh no, no no no. You were going to see reason. You were going to get onboard with his plan. He had everything worked out and by the time morning came, he was going to get what was his.

“Get your ass in the BMW before I beat it!” He shouted at you and you could see the veins in his neck pop. You could see his eyes darken. You could see the part in his dark hair.

“Don’t tease me,” you clapped right back, finger jabbing even closer to that smooth face.

Ransom raised an arm in the direction of the entrance and yelled at you, straight up yelled, “Now!”

You slapped him. 

Not hard, just a little friendly face slap with the palm of your hand and then spun on your heel, and took off for exit. Ransom watched you go and before following you, grabbed your clutch from the back of your chair. He looked at your date and snarled. “She’s coming with me!”

Both of Doctor Woods hands went up. “She’s all yours pal.”

When Ransom turned, he saw you had stopped to watch, make sure he was coming.

Up his arm went, index finger pointing the way. “Did I stutter? Go!”

Finally, you went, but not before giving him a one fingered salute.

“Don’t worry! I plan to,” he shouted at your back, hot on your heels, through the dining room floor of a restaurant you could never show your face in again. Oh, how it was worth it though. Thank goodness you’d put all that extra work while getting dressed.

Waiters in black dodged out of your way.

Patrons openly pointed and stared.

Glass shattered when someone dropped a tray of food on the hardwood floor.

Someone, somewhere in the back, shouted for the manager.

It was just like your honeymoon.

Your heels clicked loudly on the floor of the entranceway into the restaurant, past the hostess station and towards the big old heavy French doors with glass. So old they were blurry and made the lights outside look like fireworks. 

Those doors opened to the Boston night.

Out, ahead and to the left was a valet station with three young very curious looking men in black. Parked at the curb was Ransom’s vintage white BMW.

You didn’t hesitate and walked right to it.

One of the young valets hurried over to the front passenger door, opening it for you.

You thanked the young man profusely, knowing it would piss off Ransom. Especially when you touched the young man’s small shoulder, slid a hand down his thin arm. Or was Ransom just big? Your hands still found new places on Ransom’s broad-ass back.

Ransom had indeed seen it.

You were going to pay for that and as his door was opened, he swept by the valet, handing the twenty-something a wad of bills he found in your clutch. 

By the time he lifted his jacket and slid in the driver’s seat, he was yanking off his scarf. He slammed his door. He was so mad. He hadn’t been this mad since his Grandfather’s birthday party. Before he even realized it, he was leaning over into your space.

You pushed at him and he grabbed your hand roughly, easily overpowering you. Tying your wrist to the metal part of your seat’s headrest with his scarf. Without a moment of hesitation, he grabbed your other wrist and did the same. 

You could hardly believe it.

You found yourself craning your head to get a look at the colorful bindings, tightly holding your hands up behind your head. As Ransom pulled away from the restaurant, you tugged on them to see just how much pull you had, of which there was none.

Well, your evening had certainly taken a turn for the better.

In the dark of the car, illuminated by the passing city lights, you looked at him beside you. No longer in the restaurant. Things seemed to have shifted, changed a bit. Your tone was lower, normal one could say, when you brought up once more, “You said you didn’t care.”

Ransom didn’t look at you. “I was wrong.”

He wasn’t yelling at you anymore, he was far from happy.

As he made a turn without using his blinker, he informed you, “You and I are going to have a talk.”

This was new.

You were listening.

He had your attention.

“I heard you and that psycho talking this morning,” he told you.

You already knew though.

You’d seen his and Great Nana’s reflection in an antique mirror, bouncing off the floor to ceiling windows. 

Your sister had not. Your sister thought she’d got through to you and maybe her spiel about money needing to grow, or it’d stagnate, did. Still you’d wanted to give him one last chance, before sending him on to someone else. As entertaining and fun as he was, you did not need dead weight. 

You weren’t looking for a parasite.

You had no doubt, he was doing his best, to get his hands on your money and you could respect that. But you weren’t just handing anything over. 

Ransom was going to have to work for it. Ransom was going to have to prove his worth in this next big step in your life. He’d already proven himself useful, amusing, quite skilled in a number of areas, as well as loyal. 

As your nephews would say, you were looking to level up.

“I’m not going anywhere and I’ll be taking over your nonprofit work. I want a raise. I want my own expense account…”

One of your eyebrows rose, as you leaned back into the plush leather seat. “Oh?” 

You weren’t at all paying attention to where he was driving.

“I’m not done yet,” he snapped at you.

Sighing and rolling your eyes dramatically, “Forgive me. Please go on.”

“I’m not going to be your damn butler anymore!”

Unable to help yourself, you interrupted him again, “So you’re moving out?”

He cut someone off, horns blared.

Leading you to peer out the window and see you weren’t heading home. Not that you had any idea where exactly you were going. Ransom seemed to have a place in mind.

“No! I am not moving out!” He snapped back at you, accelerating to make a yellow light. “I’m moving into your room! I’m not a fucking teenager. You think I enjoy sneaking around like I’m doing something wrong? Hell no! You and I are going to be partners and I want to keep an eye on you!”

“Partners?”

Suddenly, Ransom swerved and turned into a parking garage. 

In mild interest, you watched as he pulled into the long term parking lane, instead of the other two lanes for short term. He slowed down and stopped to lower his window, hit a button on a booth and grab a ticket, causing a barrier bar to lift.

You knew you probably should have been a little concerned. A shift in your seat reminded you, you were tied to the headrest. You gave your fingers a little wiggle, as Ransom slowly drove into the garage. Heading immediately for the ramp that went down.

Down and down, to the bottom floor, as far down as one could go.

Your heart began to kick up a few extra beats. In that seat, you found yourself fidgeting a bit more. No one knew where you were. No one knew where you were going, who you were with and you were positive now, no one would even know where to start looking for you, or the self-admitted murderer beside you.

Ransom drove through a sparsely full level, heading all the way to the far back corner. “Yeah, partners. I’ve got the family pedigree. You’ve got the money. This is not a big leap to make.”

You weren’t sure how you felt about this, other than highly curious, a touch skeptical while being highly aroused too.

He pulled into a parking space, in a corner of what seemed to be a level void of humans, aside from the two of you. Your fingers began to curl as you took all of this in. “So far…all I’m hearing is what you get from me. What do I get out of this partnership?”

Ransom put his BMW in park and turned it off.

He then turned in his seat and looked at you. “What do you get from me?”

“Yeah, Leap-Maker! You get a new job, money and sleepover privileges. What do I get out of this arrangement? And your devil dick doesn’t count.”

It became clear to you that Ransom had not anticipated that question.

Typical.

Your eyes watched his hands unhook his seatbelt and then your seatbelt. You watched him shrug out of his caramel hued coat.

“What do you want?”

What did you want?

Somehow, someway, Ransom climbed over the center console and settled between your thighs, leading you to fidget in your seat, your thighs brushed along his legs.

There was nothing that you wanted that you couldn’t buy for yourself.

Everything had a price.

Which had grown to make things…dull.

You watched his hands go up the silver skirt of your dress. It had risen a few inches when you sat down. But still, it was knee length so it didn’t hike up too far. His hands were warm over the sheer fabric of you nude thigh-highs. Fingertips touched the tops of them, his eyes looked down into yours. “Was this for him?”

You refused to look away, “It’s for me.”

Those fingers drifted higher to your panties. Of which there were none.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

You shifted in the seat, in an attempt to move his hands lower, just a little lower.

In an irritated sort of way, since he was not cooperating, Ransom yanked his hands out from under the fabric of your dress. “Panty lines…” you explained with a whine.

He huffed at you.

He then began to unbuckle his pants, unzip them. “Tell me what you want? What do you want from me? What do you want so this doesn’t happen again? Because it will not happen again. I don’t share.” Your gaze darted down at the bulge in his lap, as his hand went back up your skirt. Ransom snaked a hand up between your legs, higher and higher, till he slid up into your heat. You could feel exactly how wet you were. If he noticed, he didn’t react. Ransom’s focus was elsewhere and when a finger, no, that was definitely two fingers, slid up into you, filling you, pushing you up into the seat. Your eyes widened and your mouth fell into a O. “You feel that, you feel how fucking drenched you are? No one else can do that to you. I’m the only one who can make this pussy that wet. This cunt is mine and no one else’s.”

And you knew what you wanted from him.

Your hands pulled against his scarf. Finger nails dug into your palms.

“I want you to…”

His fingers went deeper and then curled, making your spine arch and a gasp escape. Shit did that feel good. His fingers were big and long and reached deep, stretched you just right, the suddenness of it was just this side of uncomfortable, but not quite.

“What’s that?”

You licked your lips.

Moving on their own, your hips pumped, your pelvis rubbed down on his hand, seeking that most basic level of completion.

And then his hand was gone. 

You cried out in protest. He held up his hand between the two of you, so you could see just how wet his fingers were. “You’re such an asshole…” you breathed out.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered, being considerably firmer with you. He grabbed your face with the hand that had just been inside of you. You could feel your own excitement, wet on your cheek.

“I want you to hate me forever.”

His eyebrows met in confusion, “What?”

“I don’t want to be bored anymore. I want this. I want you to keep hating me and keep fighting with me. I want to make trouble and cause problems with you. I want you to screw me all over Boston. I swear to God Ransom…the second you turn into your sniveling Uncle Walt…I’m throwing you out.”

That was it?

That was all you wanted?

He’d give all that to you and more. He’d fight with you until the day you died, and fuck you from one end of New England to the other. 

“I mean it Ransom,” you warned. “Don’t you dare turn into a pampered domesticated piece of shit. You let me down yesterday. I thought you’d lost your fire in the lure of an easy cash payout.”

Ransom let go of your face and reached over to lower your seat down.

The mere fact that you were right. That he’d come so close to giving it all up at the excitement of easy money. Easy was what got him in trouble with Fran. Nothing good was ever easy. Hunching over in the front seat of his classic car, between your legs, wasn’t easy, but he knew for a fact that it was going to be well worth it.

“Yesterday was a weird day. I can garun-fucking-tee you that I want it all. I want your money.” Off came his shirt and you breathed deeply, at the broad expanse of Ransom’s chest and shoulders. “I’m going to be taking over for you with your work, all of it.” Hastily, his pants and briefs slid down his muscular thighs, softly dusted with hair, a trail of dark hair led the way from his pelvis down to his thick erection. You watched it swing heavily between his legs, as he kicked off his pants, shoes and everything, onto the floorboard.

“That’s a lot. Even I can’t keep an eye on all of it.” 

Hands grabbed you from underneath your knees, yanking you down the seat, till there was no slack where your hands were tied. Your dress skirt slid up too.

This was turning you on even more, God help you.

It was like listening to a villain on the movies, or TV, detail their evil plan.

“Don’t worry about it. I have it all worked out. You and I have a lot of work to do on Monday.” And had he not been running the tip of his impressive dick through your shockingly wet folds, you might have had a response for him. It never formed, forget came, before he was pushing into your heat. Raw and unprotected as always. Your legs lifted, opened, adjusted to make it easier for him. A gasp came from you as he slid in with a single steady push. Your body was wet and ready but damn, was he big and did he take a second to get used to, especially so suddenly and all at once.

His fingers curled around your chin as his thumb snaked against your lips. 

Shit were you wet. You were getting off on this, he realized.

As always, it was just mind-blowing being inside of your wet, soft body, without a condom. There was no better feeling in the world. Except for maybe blowing his load inside of you and then fucking you again, feeling his cum and your juices squish all around him, knowing he was shoving up into you, further and further, into your womb.

“This is mine. Your body isn’t part of any deal. You got that? Your body is already mine. Your pussy is mine. This mouth is mine. These tits are mine. Your ass is mine too. We’re not leaving this garage until you understand. If I have to fuck every last part of you till you understand, I will.”

Your body clenched around him in response, in anticipation.

He gave you the darkest look. It made your heart flutter in your chest. The bindings on your hands were tight. Your body was stuffed full of him and your hips rested across the top of his thighs.

Ransom dug his thumb into your mouth and you began to suck on it, curl your tongue around it.

“Feel that? Your pussy knows who it belongs to.”

Determining that you were ready, Ransom pulled out a few inches, then slammed back in. A gasp came from you. He did it again, but harder, then again and harder. Until he was pounding into you, slamming you into the leather seat. Each noise that came out of you grew louder and deeper. You grew wetter. Every thrust began to sound wet. He was knocking you against the seat, smearing your arousal on the leather and was beginning to not care.

When he pulled out completely, you whined and looked down.

Ransom pulled his thumb from your mouth, so he could slide his fingers into your hair and tilt your head down to see. 

“Who’s this pussy belong to?”

He thumped the top of your mound with his slippery penis. 

You were transfixed by the sight of it when he rested it there, covered with your own cum, drops of his own collected at the tip. Your legs had spread open wider and one stocking foot was up on the dashboard, the other up against the window.

“You…it’s yours Ransom.”

“Look at that, you see how god damn hard I am for you?”

Eagerly you nodded.

Fingers tightening in your hair, he made you look up at him as he pulled himself down, eased his thick head back in, spearing you open. You found yourself transfixed by his eyes, so feverish and intent on driving his point home. And then he was back in, balls deep, making you cry out.

His hips were pumping with ferocity. He burnt through his anger and frustrations and everything you’d put him through. His fingers dug even tighter into your hair as his eyes bore into yours, every last pound into your body shook you, yanked on your bound hands, made the scarf dig into your flesh. Every bit of pain just added to your pleasure. His sac smacked into your ass with wet noises, as you both continued to make a mess.

And then, then, as you began to feel yourself warm up deep within, start to go boneless, he stopped.

Ransom just stopped.

He pulled out and then reached up, as your panted heavily, and began to untie your hands from his headrest.

You were stunned.

One by one, your hands fell, wrists red from the scarf.

“You know what? I kinda like your hands tied and it made you pretty wet.” Ransom observed, looking his colorful scarf over, tugging it between his hands. His gaze focused back on you. God there was so much he suddenly wanted to do to you and as something came back to him, he licked his pink lips. “You never got your license? So you’ve never fucked in a car?”

In response, you shook your head, throbbing in need between your legs. Your eyes took in his aroused dick and you just knew he wasn’t done. But you so badly, so desperately needed your orgasm.

“Take off your dress, your bra too. You’re gonna get the full damn teenage experience tonight. Get naked and get on your knees on the floor. You’re gonna suck my dick. You ever suck dick in a car?”

Your dress came off quicker than it had in the past.

When you told him you had not, he seemed pleased.

Both your dress and bra wound up on the driver’s seat with his clothes. 

Ransom reached out and cupped your breasts, tweaked your nipples with his thumbs. “You have an amazing rack. Were you going to let him see them?” And while the prospect of making Ransom even more jealous was enticing, you just wanted his dick. You’d never been this needy for his cock, for an orgasm. You literally felt like you were going to die if you didn’t come soon.

Not that you weren’t being honest, because you were. “No, he bored me.”

“Of course he bored you,” Ransom pointed to where he wanted you, kneeling between his legs, knees on the floorboards. “You’re a kinky little psycho. He wouldn’t have been able to make you come as hard, or as much as me. And if you didn’t go out with him, you’d be screaming out my name on my cock. But no, you went out with him. You were a bad girl and bad girls get punished.”

Your head snapped back.

Your eyes narrowed at him, “You’re punishing me? You aren’t letting me get off because you’re punishing me?”

“How else will you learn?”

You saw red.

You really saw red. 

Ransom was edging you?

“You’re fucking edging me! You piece of shit! You want me to suck your dick, when you’re intentionally not letting me come!”

You may have hit him on his arm. He may have grabbed your arm, pushed you down towards the floor. 

Enraged, you may have struggled and shoved at him.

Finally though, since he was bigger, stronger, he may have shoved you down to your knees, on the floor.

“There you go! Mouthing off! You know what…I’ve got just the thing for you!”

Ransom wasn’t even going to lie. Shoving you down between his thighs was really making him hard. The burn on his arm was so fucking hot from where you’d hit him. Every screech and insult thrown his way, golden. He knew just what would piss you off even more.

Scarf in hand, he grabbed your hair to pull you forward and then wrapped the scarf around your head twice, and then three times, knotting it in the front, in your mouth. Gagging you with two layers of scarf and then the knot.

Ok, so, he knew this meant his dick wasn’t getting sucked.

But seeing that murderous look in your eyes, it was worth it. Angrily you breathed out of your nose. Breasts hiking so beautifully.

“Be a good girl. If you give me a satisfactory hand job, maybe I’ll let you come.”

You were going to rip it off and beat him with his own penis.

Angrily, after you let loose a barrage of insults through your gag, you finally settled between his legs, grabbing his shaft perhaps a bit rougher than usual.

****

This was the best fucking idea Ransom ever had, he should have gagged you and demanded a hand-job sooner.

Fuck you were good with your hands.

He’d never given much thought to the callouses on your hands before, or how much strength was in your hands. Maybe, if the mood struck one day, he’d ask what sort of work you’d done growing up. But now, now he was too focused on what a fucking beautiful job you were doing.

Unable to use your mouth, you’d had to get creative and before he could offer some of his own saliva, you’d reached down between your legs to collect your own wet arousal.

You were jerking him off with your own slippery juices.

He watched you fist him practically ruthlessly. One of his long legs was propped up on the steering wheel. You were leaning against his other leg. Vibrating with so much anger, that you were determined to make him cum and ruin his upholstery. 

“Shit…that’s so fucking good…we need to do this more often…”

You gave his balls a good squeeze.

Ransom could see drool soak his scarf, coat your chin and neck.

You refused to look away from his gaze. You refused to let him win. Your thighs were drenched. Your wrists burnt from your absolute determination to make this son of a bitch climax. You were going to make him come so hard it hurt.

His dick was slippery with the both of you. Pre-cum was oozing from the tip, as each bit of the slickness you’d collected from yourself slid down into his pelvis. It was all over your wrists and hands and was just disgusting. You hadn’t been this turned on since yesterday.

God love the pretentious asshole, he could fuck like a champ and was just as twisted as you.

And then, then he got that look, his eyes closed, his mouth dropped and this guttural noise came from him. The motherfucker was close. 

The motherfucker in question moved, pulled away from you.

An outraged noise came from behind your gag.

“Not yet. I’m coming in that tight little pussy. Get your ass up here.”

You shrieked at him, still furious at all your hard work from ten, maybe fifteen minutes of the nastiest hand-job you’d ever given. You shrieked, shouted, gestured and reached for his dick. 

Ransom batted your hand away.

He grabbed your arm, pulled you up on the seat with him and kissed you on the gag that covered your mouth. He kissed your neck, your throat and collarbone, all the way down to your breast where he sucked deeply on your nipple, painfully hard, nipping at the tight bud and making you whimper. His other hand sank down between your legs to find you sopping wet. A sob came from you when his thumb circled your clit, when two fingers slid into your folds and then your warm passage.

Just how he knew you liked, he firmly toyed with your clit, shoved his fingers deeper inside of you. Pumped his hand and stroked you as your eyes fluttered, as you moaned around the gag. Your fingers dug into his broad shoulders. Your breasts pressed against his chest, nipples ached as your body writhed against him.

Right when he felt your channel begin to clench, he withdrew his hand.

Your eyes flew open.

Again, you began to shriek at him through his scarf gag. Your hands came up to grip his throat, you shoved him back into the door, more than just a little bit frustrated. You were going to kill him. That was it. You could not take another second of this! No jury would convict you. Of that you were certain.

Ransom was surprised.

You were pretty upset. Your hands were tightening pretty hard around his neck. Your eyes had taken a crazed look to them. You hadn’t been this upset with him since he’d knocked over the urn holding Chip’s ashes. He’d then tried to vacuum them up. He swore it was an accident. You didn’t believe him. And it was not an accident. But he could remember how fan-fucking-tastic it’d been then too. Bending you over the arm of the couch and screwing you senseless in your fancy brunch clothes, knowing that the damn housekeeper he couldn’t fire was home and could hear everything.

Ransom was looking forward to creating new memories.

He shoved you hard enough, you bounced against the drivers seat. After that, he grabbed your arm and shoved you between the driver seat and lowered passenger seat. Both your hands splayed forward onto the leather back seat. Shrieks of outrage came from you as he scooted up behind you, knocked your thighs wider with his knee and looked down at you. Fisting himself, “Tightest little cunt I’ve ever had…you ready to come?”

More frantic shouting came from you, behind the gag, that had taken on a note of hysteria.

“Who’s this pussy belong to? Who’s the only person that gets this dripping snatch?”

You screamed his name. You pointed at him. You begged and pleaded and looked back at him with tears in your eyes.

“You’re god damn right,” he snarled, slipping in through your wet folds, then piercing you in one powerful thrust. Sliding in deep, all the way in. Till his balls rested against you. Till his head touched your cervix. A groan came from you as your eyes rolled back into your head.

Could that have felt any more perfect?

Like a man possessed, Ransom pounded into you.

Loud, lewd wet sounds of smacking filled the small space. He watched your fingers dig into the back seats. Sounds of your animalistic moans came from behind his scarf with every pump he gave you. You slipped between the two upright and down leather seats, both of your bodies now covered with sweat. Ransom could feel it beading down his back. When he ran fingers through his hair, it was slick with sweat.

He made a mental note to have his car detailed that coming week.

“Untie my scarf. I want to hear you say my name.”

You listened, as you lifted your hands to unknot the silk, you felt him spread your ass cheeks. All while he continued to fuck you like his life depended on it. Every time he bottomed out, it felt like he was hitting your cervix. Your clit was so sensitive, so inflamed and angry, every time Ransom brushed against it, it throbbed. It hurt every time your body slipped and it touched the upholstery.

Wet from your saliva, the knot defeated your hands. 

Which left you yanking it down your chin, until your mouth was free of fabric, you could cry out freely, say his name unimpeded. 

“Can I put my thumb in your ass?”

Shit that would just push you over the edge. And you were already so close, having been teased all night.

“Go for it,” you breathed. Breathing through a tremor deep within your core, warning you that you were close.

Ransom reached down. He ran his thumb up against your slippery thigh, collecting as much as he could and then, pulling one of your cheeks to the side, he began to slowly fuck you. Rotate his hips, hump you like an animal over his seat. Allowing Ransom to rub a good bit of your combined fluids over your puckered hole. He smeared it around, testing the tight ring, eyes darting in your direction as you began to whimper at the sensation.

You gasped when his thumb pushed in. The feeling so alien, so odd and then, so tight.

More pressure. 

His humping grew harder, more enthusiastic. When his other hand came up around to your clit, you just knew you were going to get it. 

Ransom was so close, so fucking close. He may have been edging you, but he was the one suffering. The things that he did for you, to you. He was a fucking saint is what he was. He was so close, he could feel the tell-tale sensations, the tightening in his groin. Your body trembled beneath him as he leaned down on your sweaty back, his own perspiration smearing on you and the leather seats. 

“I’m gonna fuck your ass one of these days. You feel that…you feel my finger in your ass and my cock in your pussy. That’s how you’re going to come. You think that guy your sister set you up with can make you feel this good? You think he can make you scream when you come?”

You shook your head. 

Ransom humped into you harder, never leaving your body as his fingers circled your painful clit, as his thumb dug into your ass. “Your damn right he can’t. No one can make you feel this good. No one can make you scream like I can…now come, come for me.”

And you came. He came too.

Your body just broke, it clenched and shattered around him, from him. It hurt so good you shrieked out his name. Ransom felt that numbing powerful release that left him warm, feeling everything go fuzzy as he bucked up against you, body moving of its own accord in the grip of his release. He swore and hissed, grunted.

Boneless, you were boneless.

Things throbbed and clenched, leaked and god what was that smell. Your mind was blank and it was a few moments before you came to realize, that your forehead rested on the backseat. Before you noticed he’d collapsed on top of you. 

Your eyes closed as he panted above you. Body hot and slippery against you. 

God you were so tired.

You could have conked off for a nap, then and there.

“I…care…” he breathed against the back of your head. Chaining kisses over the damp salty skin of your shoulder, as you turned your head to look at him. “No one takes you out…only me. I don’t share. I won’t fuck around on you. Don’t fuck around on me.”

You reached up, your hand softly touched his flushed face.

Your thumb brushed over his mouth softly.

“I won’t fuck around on you,” you promised, and then, being unable to help yourself, you smirked a bit. “I always thought the backseat was where all the action happened.”

A pair of dark eyebrows rose.

His dark gaze traveled down over the forming red marks on your cheeks. Your chin was wet and he felt so satisfied, even after you’d gone out to dinner with another man while most likely being pregnant with his child.

Ransom wasn’t stupid.

You’d been moody and would cry at the weirdest shit, like TV commercials or during sex just then. Your tits were looking perkier than ever and were so tender, he couldn’t even enjoy them. You were nauseous. You were horny as hell, not that he was complaining. Any day now he expected you to start throwing up.

Even though he’d just emptied what felt like the entirety of what was in his balls, into your wet pussy, he’d be ready to go soon.

“Wanna get in the back? I’ll let you suck my cock and then ride it, paint up the rest of your cunt and those tits with my cum. Then I’ll eat you out. Just how I know my dirty girl likes.” When you bit your lip, he went on, “You like it when I kiss you, and you can taste my cum, and your pussy, together. Don’t you?”

To which there was only one response, only one that could possibly come from your mouth. “God I love date night.”

***

“How exactly did Auntie end up going out with Doctor Wood last night on her date? But coming home with you this morning? That doesn’t make sense,” your ten-year-old nephew frowned, eying Ransom suspiciously. As your new cook dropped a bowl of breakfast on the table for Ransom. Pieces of fruit bounced out onto the table cloth.

After which, Jun turned to the older nephew, placed his fruit with oatmeal gently in front of him and then kissed his forehead, in a grandmotherly sort of way.

You’d hired Jun two months ago and loved to watch and hear her, and Ransom, scream at each other.

She refused to listen when he tried to fire her and you refused to fire her. Plus, she was a Goddess in the kitchen and adored the boys.

After last night, you were considering promoting her to Lady Butler, or whatever the equivalent title was for a woman butler.

She’d taken one look at you that morning, and had placed a tall glass of water with cut up ginger on the table for you, given you some plain toast and while soothing over you. She’d hissed angrily in Korean at Ransom when he strolled in the dining room.

She was your new favorite person ever.

Your younger nephew cut in, before Ransom could explain anything thankfully. Just as Jun walked back towards the kitchen, bumping into Ransom’s chair hard enough to knock him forward.

“Did you bring me back anything from your date? You said you’d bring me back cake.”

Cake, ugh, that was the last thing you wanted in the apartment.

Such a statement was about to be expressed from you when you felt your stomach roll. It rolled most violently, most cruelly. 

“Ok, first of all…” Ransom began, which was right when you knew for a fact you were going to be sick. 

You were going to throw up.

Your hands began to shake, as a cold sweat began at your spine. 

You were desperate, you looked around as you clambered out of your chair in your fuzzy robe, shocking all three males at your table at your haste. Great Nana didn’t seem all that concerned.

Like a woman possessed, you ran as fast as you could across the hardwood floor and when you could go no further, unable to keep it in, you lunged for your purse on a serving table. Which was the only suitable thing with four sides and a bottom, to throw up the ginger water, that was the only thing in your stomach that morning.

Ransom knew it.

He knew it wasn’t you, like you’d been worried about.

He knew his little swimmers were more potent than the swimmers of the elderly. It might have taken some time, but he’d done it. As he watched you get sick in your purse, he couldn’t help but feel manly pride. He’d made something. A part of him was growing inside of you, changing you. That old fuck hadn’t been able to do that and he couldn’t help but glance up at the wall, smirk at the portrait of Chip hanging high, overlooking the dining room.

“Auntie…are you ok…” 

Back to reality, Ransom assured both boys as Great Nana chuckled inappropriately. “Auntie is ok. As you can see, she’s not feeling well, which is why I picked her up early from her date. Auntie needed some fresh air last night.”

The older one wasn’t buying it. “You two were gone all night though.”

He rose from his chair, grabbing cloth napkins from both boys, as well as his own for you. “Auntie needed a lot of fresh air. What the hell is this? A cross examination? Eat your breakfast.”


End file.
